


Kaitou ROSE

by Kencha



Series: Magic Sato 32051 [1]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: (ehh he's already one but), (who cares), Black org says hi but rose goes 'not today' and nails them with a flash bomb, Detective!Takagi, Detectiving, F/M, Gun Violence, Gunshot Wounds, Heists, Kaitou!Satou, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Minor bits of romance?, No Kaito-Kaitou KID, No Shrinking, People think ROSE is a man and Satou loves using that, Referenced Past Minor Character Death, Thievery, only Toichi-Kaitou KID, some blood?, they died in the past and we talk about it sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kencha/pseuds/Kencha
Summary: Ten years ago, her father died, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs to Jii Kounosuke and Kudou Yuusaku. With the wishes of ghosts trailing at her heels, Satou Miwako dons the cape and monocle to drag from the shadows the men who stole her father and her idol from her.Takagi Wataru, owner of TK Investigators, has been chasing after kaitou 32051, Kaitou ROSE, for over a year. With a growing reputation as the ROSE Cutter, he delves into an investigation on the thief, searching for answers about who she is, what she searches for, and what he can do to help her.taken from Kiril's prompt in the DCMK fanfic server: Sato is a phantom thief and Takagi is her detective.
Relationships: Background (?) Miyamoto Yumi/ Haneda Shuukichi, Satou Miwako/Takagi Wataru
Series: Magic Sato 32051 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573300
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is a phantom thief, he is her detective.

Brisk wind rushed past her face, sending her cape billowing out behind her. The woman grabbed the brim of her hat with a gloved hand, pulling it down to keep it from flying away. The lining of her suit jacket and slacks kept the wind from cutting to her skin, but she clenched her teeth against the chilled wind blowing against her face.

The wind died down for a moment of reprieve, and the woman on the roof counted down mentally in her head, staring at the heavily guarded jewel below. The Forest's Soul was a breathtaking emerald in a captivating setting of silver, the precious metal forged to embrace the gem with branch-like arms adorned with small, delicate blossoms carved from slivers of amethyst. It glinted brilliantly under the numberless spotlights and easily drew attention to itself, with or without the fanfare and spectacle her anticipated arrival brought.

_ Fourteen. Thirteen.  _ Her finger hovered over the trigger to blow the breaker, glancing the second button. It would turn on the police's backup generators that she'd wired to extra spotlights. With proper timing, she'd blind the officers again for the advantage she needed to escape. Her first rodeo had been nearly a year ago and had been dismally wrought with mishaps and close calls. Now?

Now, the woman grinned a cutting grin and pressed the button, plunging the world below into blackness. By the light of the moon, she threw open the skylight and descended to her stage, landing softly on the display case with the assistance of her grappling hook.

_ "Ladies and gentlemen!” _ She called in accented English above the clamour she'd stirred with the blackout. "Thank you for coming tonight. Allow me to dazzle you all!"

With the press of another button, she flooded the room with light, blinding the closest taskforce members and a few of her fans. The ones who could see were greeted with the imposing figure of Kaitou ROSE standing triumphantly atop the display case, Forest's Soul in hand.

* * *

Wataru seethed at the sight of the thief. As Nakamori shouted, "Get him!" throwing a needlessly dramatic pointed finger at ROSE, Wataru skirted the ROSE Taskforce's dogpile to charge up the stairs. The past two heists, ROSE had left from a high point in the area. Once by hangglider, the other time by parachute (and wasn't it a miracle she hadn't been caught) (And, yes, Wataru was quite aware ROSE was not the man most the world believed her to be. He couldn't explain why he knew such a thing, however, and kept the theory to himself). If he was right, then ROSE would lead the Taskforce on a wild goose chase to the basement while actually making her way to the roof. That’s what it seemed she'd do based off what she'd said in the heist notice— not that Nakamori would listen to Wataru.

Wataru winced inwardly as he climbed the staircase, keeping an ear out for any kind of action. It had been two years since leaving the police force, but rumors still circulated that dragged his reputation further and further through the mud. Some thought he quit because he couldn't handle the dead bodies. That was a downright lie. With Kudou Shinichi as his apprentice, Takagi Wataru saw more gruesome murders in a week than most of Division One saw in a month. Others said he quit because of the workload, the paperwork. Again, that was false. Wataru ran his own detective agency with a  _ paid  _ intern, not to mention taking care of his nephew. All together, he dealt with more paperwork and stress than he had working for the police.

He wasn't a wimp. He wasn't an academy dropout. Takagi Wataru turned in his badge because his brother was murdered and no one would listen. The case was filed as a suicide despite the evidence Shinichi found  _ ("it's circumstantial") _ and despite how Wataru  _ knew _ his brother would never kill himself when his son was coming home from the hospital that day  _ ("maybe something happened, something he couldn't deal with"). _

_ ("Maybe he was more selfish than you thought, Takagi.") _

So he turned in his badge. He took Kudou Shinichi as an apprentice. He solved murders and suicides and grew by leaps and bounds as a detective with Shinichi's limitless knowledge and uncanny observation and perception at his side. TK Investigators made a name for themselves in the past two years.

Of course, that meant nothing to ROSE.

Panting heavily, Wataru threw open the door to the roof and his behind an air conditioning unit to wait for ROSE. Twelve months, fifteen heists, and not once had Wataru gotten more than a glimpse of the thief as she ran from view. The phantom in white eluded him like an obscure bit of evidence. He knew he was only a few steps away from her, but he knew nothing about her.

She was a gem thief, a blip on Wataru's radar after the surge of gem thieves fifteen years ago. Phantom thief 32051 made a name for herself by stealing the Black Star, a treasure of the Suzuki family. A reporter at the press release snooped around for information on the thief and caught a glimpse of the thief's number. Written in thick, black marker, the letters bled through to the backside of an officer's paper and seemed, to the reporter, to spell a word:  _ R-O-S-E. _ The name caught on and spread like wildfire with the thief's next heist, held in a spacious rose garden, the thief’s target an expensive rose quartz gem.

Each heist was a whirlwind, no two exactly alike, save for ROSE's punctuality and poise. ROSE left notes in a bouquet of her namesake, indicating what she'd steal and when, returning each gem a few days later. She spoke with a man's voice and was an incredible magician, no doubt. Aside from that? Wataru had nothing on her. 

A master of disguise, she'd made herself look like Nakamori's daughter, Aoko, Shinichi, and hid herself easily amongst a swarm of taskforce members and ROSE fans. Wataru swore he had a permanent sore on his cheek from all the times Nakamori checked him for a disguise. Wataru knew not to trust the rare glimpse he got beneath that hat, the most fleeting image of her facial structure. TIme and time again, it changes. Tonight, he'd seen a sharp jaw, pointed nose, and smooth cheeks. Her eyes were hidden from him without fail. Perhaps tonight he would change that.

Wataru breathed deeply, trying to quiet the air rushing past his lips, his lungs desperately craving oxygen. He wouldn't be surprised if ROSE put bugs up here to be sure she was alone beneath the moonlit sky. She'd bugged him during a heist, a fact he only found out moments before she was due to arrive. He winced inwardly again. That had been a positively  _ brutal _ verbal lashing from Nakamori even though all the gas masks had been damaged, leaving the entire taskforce unconscious shortly after ROSE's arrival, leaving Wataru  _ alone _ to chase the thief down.

The night air was brisk, wind whipping about his face, his arms, his legs. A chill ran down his spine, and Wataru could see his breath in front of him if only for a moment before a gale swept the tiny cloud away. While grateful for his long trenchcoat and gloves, he wished he hadn't lost his hat somewhere at the agency. Or had he left it in his bedroom at the Kudou house? He couldn't remember. Nonetheless, his ears hissed at him in growing discomfort as the cold sunk in on them. Wataru reached up and rubbed them to get them a bit warmer. Couldn't ROSE show up any faster?

* * *

ROSE cackled, the sound echoing from one of many speakers she'd planted. The taskforce were skilled, well-trained to catch thieves, but ROSE had trained for years before even setting foot upon this stage. The part-time janitorial job her assistant had secured two weeks ago provided her the time needed to set all these things up in advance. Machines on the corners of walls produced a constant sound of footsteps, the sound set to fade when someone drew near, turning off completely when a group of people passed. The machines also had a mechanism with a piece of white cloth that billowed out around the corner, producing the illusion that the taskforce was hot on her heels.

In reality, ROSE sprinted up the stairs, Forest's Soul tucked away in one of her jacket's many hidden pockets. Even if she was caught and knocked out, no one would find the jewel without getting gassed themselves, should they be foolish enough to search her. She'd only relinquish the Forest's Soul once it shone green under the moon. If it turned red, she'd destroy it. She swore on her father's and her idol's graves to rid the world of the reason they'd both died. Pandora would not take anymore lives.

She slowed her climb as she reached the top of the stairs, coming to a halt at the rooftop door. Pressing her ear to the freezing metal, she listened intently for any sound. She probably should start leaving a tap on the rooftop just in case Snake decided to wait for her up here.

Ever since getting the hangglider, she'd been using it more and more. Especially with these windy nights, it was exhilarating to soar over the masses, her prize in hand. Escaping via the sky held its own risks, however, so she saved this type of exit for rarer occasions. Were she the child of a showman, perhaps she'd enjoy it more, leaving in such a flashy manner, but she wasn't. Her heritage stood on the opposite side of the law, leaving her alone under the monocle. 

Deciding it was quiet enough, ROSE pushed the door open slowly. It didn't creak— she'd oiled the hinges last week. The moonlight shone brilliantly across the rooftop, hitting her pristine white uniform, lighting her up like a spotlight. She stepped into the open and basked in the moon's glory.

"Kaitou ROSE, you are under arrest. Put your hands up where I can see them," ordered a voice, someone standing behind her. ROSE  _ beamed. _ At last, her detective caught up to her.

She did wish he wouldn't underestimate her, though. She calmly raised her hands in the air and turned to face him. "Detective. So nice to finally meet you," she said cheerfully, using the voice of her predecessor. A flash bomb up her sleeve, she prepared to throw it to the ground to escape. “By all laws, I don't believe you're allowed to have that gun. Please, put it away before someone gets—"

_ Bang. _

A gunshot rang out through the cold winter air, and something barreled through her back milliseconds later. She grunted in pain, stumbling forward. Her detective shot her? No. Someone else.

Snake laughed, cutting and chilling as the winter wind. "You really should pay more attention to your surroundings, Kuroba Toichi."

The shot came from behind. Her detective stood in front of her, just as stunned as she.

Kaitou ROSE couldn't afford to be stunned.

Leaping into action, she grabbed her detective, diving behind the massive vent that fed into the museum's ventilation system. With a flash bomb and a smoke screen, she could shove her detective down the vent and slide down after him, or she could pretend to do so and leave by glider,  _ or  _ she could set off a dummy to fly away and take the vent route. Escaping back down the stairs was a no-go, the spiraling stairs too close to her taskforce and her fans for her comfort. With a sudden thought, she remembered the new trick her assistant had given her.  _ Will that work? _

Her detective struggled against her, trying to push her off. "We need to get out of here," he growled at her. Oh, she knew she liked him for his tenacity, but she was ready to knock him out if he kept that up. "Get off of me."

"Detective, if you value your life, keep your head down and  _ shut up." _ She shoved his head down, peeking out around the edge of the vent. Another shot cut through the air, the bullet meeting the corner of the vent with a metal clang. She ducked back behind the vent, drawing out her card gun.

"It's lovely to see you again, Snake. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Toichi's voice came clearly across the rooftop, ROSE wincing only a little at her needing to use it. Snake knew Kaitou KID's identity and assumed ROSE was a new name, old face. ROSE considered herself lucky she had no ties to the Kuroba family that anyone would find in writing, making it all the more difficult for anyone to discern her true identity. "If it's Pandora you're after, I can assure you, the Forest's Soul is not the gem either of us are looking for." She struggled to keep her breathing under control. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Her back was wet. Her side was on fire.

_ I'm losing blood. I was shot. _

A quiet whisper came from her side. "You're bleeding." Her detective was reaching into his coat, tucking away his gun and taking out a wad of gauze. She had some of her own hidden at her landing site and tucked away in a pocket. Her detective pulled aside her cape and she felt incredibly vulnerable, him at her back. "Keep that guy talking, if you can," her detective whispered, pressing something to the wound on her back.

Her face twisted with the pain.  _ Poker Face. Poker Face. _ With a quick flick of her fingers, she took her own tiny first aid kit from a pocket and took out the gauze and bandage. "Thank you," she whispered back through gritted teeth, Toichi's voice slipping from her grasp as she spoke quieter. "I'll be fine."

"Liar," her detective whispered, taking the gauze and bandage from her. Turning her, he pressed the gauze on both sides of the bullet wound (so it  _ had  _ gone through) and wrapped the bandage around her body to hold the gauze there. She held back a hiss of pain as he did, opting instead to taunt Snake further.

She called, jubilance serving as a front to her deep-set hatred against the man in black, "Nothing to say? I do caution you to keep your distance, Snake. My dearest detective is armed, and it doesn't have to be said all the things I can do to if you dare approach."

Her detective muttered, "This is why everyone thinks you're gay." He took out his gun, turned off the safety, and pointedly didn't make eye contact with her.

She ran a gloved hand on the side of his face. "Oh. I would be for you."

He shuddered but didn't quite look at her. "I know you're a woman. Please don't ever do that again."

A few more gunshots cracked across the rooftop. "Get out here, Toichi. I killed you once, I'll do it again. Face me like a man!" Snake demanded. The moon was bright, casting Snake's shadow along the floor. ROSE could see the man in black brandish his gun before firing a few more shots wildly.

"Plan?" Her detective asked.

ROSE had been counting the gunshots. Snake had two bullets left. She wanted Snake trapped so the police could arrest him after she escaped. Finger hovering over the trigger of her card gun, she rolled a ball of fast-expanding porous gel between her fingers. It would trap Snake and keep him breathing, provided the taskforce came up soon enough.

She knew her detective was an excellent shot. "Follow my lead." She rose to a crouch, her side screaming in agony as she did.  _ Poker Face. Poker Face. _ She shoved the pain away.

ROSE had an audience to entertain.

Rolling a smoke bomb into the open, ROSE grinned as Snake did exactly as expected and shot the bomb, setting it off.

"Toichi!" Snake roared, and ROSE cackled.

The smoke only lingered for a moment before a gusts tore it away. "Go!" she shouted, bolting into the open. Her detective hot on her heels, she fired her card gun, the metal-lined cards flying to find their mark, embedding themselves in the concrete at Snake's feet. The man in black stumbled backwards, catching himself to plant his feet and aim his gun at her. She grinned and threw down a flash bomb, blinding him. Her detective spun out from behind her, gun at the ready, and fired four shots. The bullets sliced cleanly through the fabric of Snake's pants, drawing blood as they pierced his skin. Crying out in pain, he collapsed, unable to stand, his gun clattering to the ground as he clapped his hands to his injuries. ROSE threw the gel bomb at Snake, entrapping the man beneath a bright orange mess.

"That should keep him from bleeding out," she said. Her knees wanted to give out, but she held firm. "Tell the police he's behind the murder of Kuroba Toichi."

Her detective stared at her. "Are you— you're not Toichi's wife? His daughter?"

ROSE chuckled, shaking her head. Drawing the Forest's Soul from her pocket and holding it to the moon, she sighed in disappointment when green light shone through it. "Still not the one I'm looking for," she murmured. Without a second thought, she tossed the gem to her detective who caught it with a yelp.

"I knew him, but he never knew me. I just was one of millions to him, detective, though he meant the world to me." ROSE's grin, her Poker Face, pushed her sorrow out of sight.

Her detective stepped closer tentatively. His gun was gone, his eyes searching only for hers, for answers. "You were a fan. He was a famous magician, though, not a phantom thief. Why are you stealing using his name?"

"My name is ROSE, detective. My predecessor was much more childish." She walked backwards to the edge of the building, hoping Snake didn't have any snipers. Kevlar was a must from now on.

Standing on the edge of the building, she addressed her detective with her true voice. "Good night, my dearest detective. May we meet again beneath the moon's gentle embrace."

Pitching herself backwards over the edge of the building, ROSE cackled in delight.

"Wait, don't! I still have more—"

Wataru watched as ROSE sailed away into the night, arm stretched out after her. That white triangle turned behind a skyscraper and vanished from sight.

"—questions," he finished half-heartedly.

Curiously, Wataru held the Forest's Soul up to the moon. "What are you looking for, ROSE?"


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even a phantom thief bleeds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi would you like some hurt? cuz buddy boy do I have some hurt for you (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧
> 
> thanks go to chibipenguin for catching all my stupid mistakes (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

ROSE knew she'd lost too much blood. Red blood crept up her white shirt, crawling down her pant legs as her vision began to sway. That fall before the hang glider had been too much. Gritting her teeth, she turned into a gentle dive, using all her mental strength to focus. She needed to collapse the glider as she touched down. Too soon, and she'd fall, probably landing on her legs weirdly. Too late, and she risked damaging the glider. Carefully, she gauged the rapidly closing distance between her and the ground and counted down. Numbers. She could handle numbers.  _ Three, two— _

A stream of air blew through the alley, sending one side of her glider up, parallel to the wall. Her flight pattern dangerously altered, ROSE spun into a free fall, barely two meters from the ground with nowhere near enough height to correct her fall. She tried nonetheless, throwing her weight to the side in an effort to level out the glider, but to no avail. The ground came up to meet her, and all she could do was collapse the glider and brace for impact.

Her hands hit first, and she ducked her head, spinning the rest of her body around in a somersault. Keeping her hands over her head to protect her skull, she clenched her teeth to keep from biting her tongue and pulled in her legs in. Once, twice she tumbled before she lost the momentum to keep the somersaults up. She slid across the pavement, her uniform catching and tearing on the concrete. When she finally stopped, her hat was bent out of shape, holes had been ripped into her pants and jacket by the unforgiving pavement, and agony set her side afire.

With shaking hands, Miwako— no, she was  _ ROSE  _ right now. ROSE, the daring thief who stared death in the face and laughed, ROSE who played with the taskforce and tempted the men in black towards the light. Holding onto her Poker Face with all her might, ROSE pulled out her phone, pushing herself up the wall to stand. Willing her legs to stay steady beneath her, she dialed her assistant.

He didn't keep her waiting. He never kept her waiting. "Miss," he greeted quietly, concisely. No names over the phone. Taps were rare, but it paid to be cautious. The one time someone slipped up could be the one time someone was listening, so no names.

"Come and get me," she replied in the same succinct manner. "I'm where the moonlight falls on a budding flower."  _ I'm at the third landing site. _ ROSE always had at least five possible landing sites prepared, the first five given code names corresponding to different stages of a flower's life, from  _ seedling _ to  _ pressed in a book. _ She and her assistant had codes for how she'd escaped, too. Anything related to  _ falling moonlight _ meant hang glider, and mention of  _ spirits _ , _ souls _ , or  _ ghosts _ indicated she'd escaped in a disguise. Getting away without a disguise was when she'd make mention of magic, letting her assistant know not to come near. After all, Miwako had no assistant. That was ROSE.

It had been embarrassing when she and her assistant first tried to create the code, bordering on ridiculous at times  _ (I'm not going to randomly talk about tires. That's too weird!) _ , but she was grateful to have it now. "Where moonlight falls on a budding red rose," she amended, remembering the color part of the code. Her brain really was shot (no, it was her stomach, but ha, ha, she made a joke).

Her assistant inhaled sharply, a rush of static over the phone. "Of course, Miss." He hung up before she could say more, revving the engine of his car. He was near the third landing site, close to the young miss' location. He sped towards her, keeping a sharp eye out for her white, shining uniform.

His stomach churned in uneasiness when he finally saw her, poking her head out of the alley a few blocks from the third landing site. Unsure it was her at first, he had to slam on the brakes when she waved a bright red hand at him, her gloves tattered.

Parking the car, he ran to her, catching her as she let go of the wall and stumbled. He always forgot how heavy she was until she did something like this. A woman of pure, refined muscle weighed down his arms, coughing as he shifted his grip to hold her up better. Her arm around his shoulder, she gripped the front of his shirt as he supported her weight.

"Injury?" He murmured the question.

She coughed out an explanation. "Snake. Gun."

He nodded solemnly, taking note of the haphazard attempt to stem the blood flow. She needed medical attention now. He pulled her along faster than he knew she'd want to move, but not too fast to irritate the wound. "And the scrapes?"

She stumbled on the curb, grunting as he caught her. "A stray breeze during landing. Only fell two meters, nothing broken," she said, her voice uncannily clear. Toichi might've died years ago, but his recordings, meant for Kaito, ingrained in ROSE the necessity of both a physical and mental Poker Face. Jii knew he wasn't fond of ROSE's adoption of Poker Face, but it was undoubtedly vital to her nighttime profession. Either way, he'd rather a grown woman adopt Toichi's lifestyle over a teenager any day.

Her assistant leaned her against his car to open the door and help her inside. ROSE knew the world shouldn't spin the way it did, her head careening to one side. It was getting harder to breathe, and she knew that she'd had a thing called peripheral vision just seconds ago. Jii's soft, comforting voice was distant, growing further by the moment. He guided one foot into the car, then another. When her assistant lowered the rest of her into the seat, her sense of balance left her, and she fell across the backseat, groaning as she fell on the injury Snake left her with.

Teetering on the edge of consciousness, ROSE registered her gloves being pulled off. Pressing a soft cloth into her bare hand, Jii lifted her to place another piece of fabric beneath her. He guided her hands to her wound and held them there for a moment before taking his hands away. Miw—  _ ROSE  _ got the message loud and clear. Apply pressure. She pressed down on the wound, wincing as it stung, but maintaining pressure nonetheless. Jii needed to drive. He couldn't keep her alive and drive all on his own.

He drove, and she fought with the blackness to keep her eyes open. She didn't realize she'd lost until she woke up hours later.

* * *

She groaned, groggily opening her eyes. Moving to sit up, Miwako braced her arms on the bed, her skin protesting under the bandages. Her stomach shouted at her with all its might to  _ stop _ as she sat up. By the time she was upright despite her entire body's vehement protests, she was sweating, panting heavily from the effort. Miwako gripped her legs to keep from falling back on the bed. She needed to get up. The gym. She had to take care of the gym. Her students were waiting for her. There were other teachers, yes, but she'd never let heist injuries keep her from her job.

One leg, then the other, she swung them over the side of the bed. She had to wait a few moments to catch her breath before moving again, the world spinning before her eyes. Willing the floor to stay still, Miwako pushed herself to her feet. She swayed forward and fell, catching herself on her arms. The jolt traveled up her body, and she cried out in pain, falling to her non-injured side. 

Damn that Snake. Damn her for fixating on her detective, for not examining the rooftop more carefully. She could have avoided this turn of events if she hadn't been so clear in her heist note.  _ You shall travel by way of spirit as I with body and soul travel the slower path. _ It was an obvious nod to the gem's original owners, a couple in Scotland who had kept the Forest's Soul with three other gems, the Lake's Lament, Flame's Rage, and Gale's Song. The Scottish folksong 'Loch Lomond' spoke of two imprisoned warriors, one who would be executed while the other would be set free. The one doomed to die told the other,  _ "You take the high road and I'll take the low road, and I'll get to Scotland before you." _ Miwako, taking the slower path, had said all but explicitly she'd be leaving from a high location as her taskforce blundered around in the basement.

While she was grateful she'd only had to protect and escape from her detective, some part of her wondered if catching Snake would have been less painful— literally— if she'd had her taskforce on her heels. With another grunt, she shoved herself up to a sitting position again, this time on the cold wooden floor. She tossed aside that thought. If her taskforce had been on the roof with Snake, Snake would have opened fire. ROSE was known for her  _ No one gets hurt _ rule. Snake undoubtedly knew of it too and would use it against her. He'd done it before at some of her latest heists, threatening her fans, her taskforce, and her detective. 

But he was gone now. Put behind bars. Gone. Part of her wished he'd killed himself in his cell while the other half knew he needed to confess for his crimes. She could only pray he hadn't specified murdering her father as one of those crimes, seeing as such a revelation could give her identity away. It didn't take a leap of logic to conclude that Satou Miwako, daughter of a man Snake murdered and a die-hard fan of another of Snake's victims, was ROSE if someone looked at the right information. Though she tried to stay inconspicuous, Miwako knew she wouldn't be able to explain everything away with _ I'm a ROSE fan _ , or,  _ I loved Kuroba Toichi when I was little. _

She footed half the bill for all the supplies and materials Jii needed for the heist. Anyone could look at the large amounts she took from her account that  _ didn't _ go towards fixing the gym or towards her rent. She took days off about every month, though she might be able to claim she got awful periods and didn't leave home on those days. 

She'd made an effort to hide it, but she had an incredibly specialized skill set to fulfill the needs of her night job. Lockpicking, acrobatics, hang gliding, sharpshooting, not to mention her extensive knowledge on jewels, different security system models, air currents, and most importantly, magic.

When she first met Jii and Kudou Yuusaku five, almost six years ago, she promised to take up the mantle of Kaitou KID. Jii and Kudou had their doubts, explaining that magic had been a very integral part of KID, and Miwako was a martial artist. She wasn't trained to do sleight of hand, redirect attention, pull a rabbit from a hat or turn a flaming piece of paper into a dove. "So train me," she demanded.

Jii didn't go easy on her, putting her through the wringer to get even close to his level of skill. When she wasn't running the gym she inherited from her late father, she practiced constantly to up her game. 

Kudou played a part in her becoming ROSE, too, acting as detective to would-be heists that Miwako planned. Seeing right through any tricks or red herrings to discern the truth, he was her first critic, showing her where she fell short, showing her where she needed to improve. Time and time again, Kudou challenged her, intending to force Miwako to think and act on the fly. The faux heists, most often held in old, abandoned buildings if not Kudou's home, stretched Miwako's way of thinking far beyond what her gym required.

Miwako had to account for every eventuality, even the most far-fetched and absurd ones. After all,  _ ROSE _ sought to fall into that final category, outwitting the police and dashing away with the sought-after jewel. If no one expected her to act a certain way, then she'd be free to take said route without resistance. However, ROSE had to assume Murphy's law applied in every situation. She had to be prepared for everything to go wrong so she could make it out alive. 

Snake's voice came back to her as she recalled the events on that rooftop. She'd been so stupid, so  _ blind. _ It was all because her detective was finally going to see her— not that she was blaming him. In fact, Miwako was more furious at herself for being distracted by her detective, for allowing the both of them to be put in danger like that. She should have been more attentive. She should have been better.

She wasn't, and now she was sitting on the floor in  _ quite a lot of pain thank you very much _ . 

Snake was gone, though. She held onto that. Snake was finally gone.

Scanning the room, Miwako properly took stock of where she was. The bedsheets were familiar, though not her own. She had a rug in her room, and this room had none, the wood floorboards cold on her skin. She wore a pair of her own pajamas, the soft fabric comforting on her skin. A clock on the wall told her it was barely past eight, and the door was wide open with someone fast approaching from the other end of the house. She must've been heard when she collapsed on the floor.

Miwako tensed for a moment as the person came closer, but relaxed when she recognized their gait. Yumi.

All the pieces fell together. Yumi, her best friend, had brought her home from the bar a few times and let her sleep off the liquor in this very room. She had a few sets of Miwako's clothes and Miwako had some of Yumi's thanks to their respective impulsive and impromptu sleepovers, which was probably why Miwako was wearing her own pajamas. Miwako dimly remembered Jii picking her up, but little else after that. Yumi was one of the people Miwako knew she would be able to trust with ROSE's secret if it ever had to be told, so Jii probably brought Miwako here after he'd stitched her up. 

The light from the hallway was blocked by Yumi, standing in the doorway. "Miwako! Oh my god, Miwako, you're not supposed to move." A few more choice expletives graced Miwako's ears as Yumi dropped to her knees next to Miwako, examining her frantically, running her hands lightly over Miwako's body. "You're going to hurt yourself. You need to rest. You got shot, you shouldn't be moving at all."

Miwako gritted her teeth and moved her legs beneath her. "I have to get to the gym. Classes started an hour ago."

Firmly placing her hands on her shoulders, adjusted her legs so she sat parallel to Miwako, her body facing Miwako's. "Look at me." 

Miwako met her eyes fiercely, glaring a challenge. Her anger didn't have that much of an effect since Yumi not only held Miwako down by her shoulders, she also held Miwako still as Miwako swayed backwards. 

Her balance failing her yet again, Miwako instinctively tried to right herself only to be met with a resounding  _ nope _ from her stomach. Pain erupted from her abdomen, and she groaned, clutching her stomach as Yumi caught her. 

Yumi swore. "I don't know what the hell happened to you, but you're in no shape to be teaching classes. You can barely stand up, how the hell do you expect yourself to teach policemen how to take down criminals?"

Miwako grimaced. "I have to. Dad would never—"

"Ah-ah-ah. No." Yumi firmly cut her off. "You don't get to use your dead dad as an excuse. He wouldn't want you to hurt yourself worse because of something he said." Yumi was probably the only person allowed to be so frank with Miwako about her late father. Yumi was one of maybe half a dozen people who understood what Miwako's dad meant to her. 

She moved her legs beneath her and stood up, moving her hands from Miwako's shoulders to her armpits to move her up from the floor. "I don't care how badass you are, you can't just sleep off being shot."

As Yumi lifted her off the ground, Miwako managed to find her footing. Standing up, with Yumi supporting her, Miwako finally looked at her friend. She had an hour's worth of questions. If Yumi was here, that meant she'd taken the day off, so she'd probably be able to answer everything Miwako had to ask. 

Starting with  _ how much do you know? _

Yumi, with Miwako's arm around her shoulders, returned her stare, her game face falling back to make way for a concerned look. "What is it?"

Blinking, Miwako sifted through her questions to try to find the most appropriate one, but none came up front and center soon enough. Miwako only shook her head. "It can wait." 

Yumi pulled Miwako back towards the bed. Miwako had barely taken a step before she collapsed, so Yumi only had to help lower Miwako back onto the bed. As Miwako laid back down into the oh so soft and immensely comfortable mattress, Yumi gave Miwako's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I took off from work today, so we have all day to talk about whatever's going on."

Miwako swallowed. "I— I have a lot I need to tell you," she admitted. "A lot you— you don't know."

Yumi nodded. She didn't smile, she didn't frown, as though she expected Miwako to say something like that. "I'm gonna go get Chukichi. He's been keeping your injuries clean so you don't get infected or anything. He'll be glad to know you're finally awake."

_ Finally awake. _

Miwako's heart stopped. "Yumi, how long have I been out?" she asked shakily, fearing the worst. A few days? Weeks?

Yumi drew in a breath, letting it out slowly. "Two days ago, a bartender said he found you behind his bar and called me to come and get you. He said no hospitals, Miwako. I want to know what that's about," she said honestly. 

Miwako's heart clenched, her hand copying the feeling. Staring at the wall, Miwako spoke quietly, her energy failing her. "I will. I'll tell you. I promise."

Yumi knelt at the side of the bed, taking Miwako's hand. Settling for turning her head so as to not aggravate her injury further, Miwako watched her friend's face tremble. 

"You really scared me. I'm so glad you're still alive." Miwako's hand still in her grasp, Yumi put her forehead to her hands. "I swear, if you go and get yourself hurt like this again, I'm gonna—" she cut off, and hot tears fell onto Miwako's hand. 

Squeezing Yumi's hands, Miwako said quietly, "Thank you, Yumi. I owe you."

Yumi shook her head. "Just shut up for a moment, okay? Just shut up and—" she squeezed Miwako's hand, biting her lip. She huffed out a sort of laugh, shaking her head. "You know damn well that if you weren't hurt I'd be hugging all of you this tight."

Yumi's shuddering breaths were the only sounds she heard in the room for a few moments as Miwako watched her friend silently, complying with her request. Watching Yumi, Miwako wondered how to tell her about ROSE, if she was going to tell her at all. With some pain killers and some of ROSE's gear (namely, smoke bombs and sleeping gas), Miwako might be able to make it back to her own home without having to answer to Yumi at all, but... Miwako didn't want that. Yumi had been with her all this time. For ten years, since just after her dad's death, Yumi had been the greatest friend Miwako could ask for. She'd always been there to listen, to help, and Miwako always returned the offer. In recent years, thanks to her ROSE training, Miwako knew she'd been falling short with being there for Yumi. She didn't want to lie again to Yumi and lose one of the only friends she still had. 

With Snake gone, it would be so much safer to bring Yumi into all this. Snake had always been the mastermind. With him out of the picture, Yumi would be that much safer, knowing ROSE's identity.

Startling Miwako from her thoughts with another wet bark of half-hearted laughter, Yumi raised her head, dropping Miwako's hand to wipe her eyes. "I'm— I'm gonna go get Chukichi." She stalled, looking at Miwako again. "Don't do anything like this ever again. I swear to God, Miwako."

It was hard to swallow, her throat tight with guilt. Unable to verbally promise such a thing (she still hadn't found Pandora, after all), Miwako only nodded, making a noise in her throat that suggested assent. Satisfied, Yumi finally left the room, calling her boyfriend's name as she did.

Her friend gone from sight and just the barest amounts of information gathered, a thought leapt to the forefront of Miwako's mind, born from years of her mentors pounding these instincts into her head.  _ Call Jii. _

Lifting her head, Miwako growled to herself when she couldn't see over the lumpy pillows just by using her neck. Careful not to move her torso, seeing as doing so had been quite clearly very painful, Miwako sat up on her elbows. Her arms weren't a fan of that movement either, but their whimpers were nothing compared to her side's screams. She ignored them. 

On the bedside table, a lamp sat calmly, illuminating the half of the room that the tall, standalone lamp on the opposite wall failed to reach. Her phone wasn't on the little table. Narrowing her eyes, Miwako scoured the rest of her field of vision for her cheap flip phone. Small and black, it wouldn't normally be visible at a glance, so she looked closely across the room. Part of her didn't expect to find anything, unable to think of a reason why Yumi would leave an invalid their phone, even if that invalid was her best friend. The other part of her hoped that she was just missing her phone in her injured, probably-a-bit-delirious, not-quite-awake state, and that ROSE's assistant was just a moment more of scrutinizing the room and a speed dial away.

She couldn't see her phone anywhere. Her vision frustratingly blurred at the edges, her peripheral vision shot, and her head ached like she'd pulled her hair back into a ponytail too tight, her scalp painfully tightening around her skull. She fell back onto the pillow again, shutting her eyes against the light and trying to regulate her breathing as it rapidly spiraled out of her control. From the floor above, Yumi's footsteps, accompanied by what must've been Shukichi's, seemed to shake the entire room, rattling her brain inside her skull. 

She needed to get up. She needed to run her gym, keep up appearances. Snake could have easily testified that he shot ROSE. She couldn't stay here for longer than she already had. Her arms shook when she lifted them. Her side was aflame with agony as she sat up again. Her legs, stiff and aching, moved agonizingly slow off the side of the bed. She'd gotten up once. She could do it again.

This time, instead of trying to stand up on her own two feet, Miwako leaned heavily on the bedside table, her eyes half-lidded against the light. Using the table to balance, she slid off the bed, planting her feet beneath her. She needed to get to Jii. She'd come back for Yumi, but she needed Jii first. Yumi had a house phone in the kitchen down the hallway. She only had to make it that far. 

_ Poker Face.  _

ROSE’s balance threatened to abandon her with each step, dizziness swarming her senses as she clung to the wall for support. She had to make it to the kitchen. She had to call Jii. Grabbing hold of her breathing, she fixated on one floorboard at a time to maintain her focus.

Two people were closing in on her, and fast. It was probably Nakamori and her detective hot on her tail, ROSE thought, her mind steadily growing fuzzier, blurred by a fever induced by her weakened immune system. Judging by the volume, pace, and strength of the vibrations of their footsteps, she had maybe a minute and a half to make it down the hall. Once they saw her, they'd try to stop her immediately. If she could hide, they'd keep looking for her, and that might buy her some time. There was a broom closet about halfway down the hallway. She could make it that far and rest there.

One step at a time, ROSE pushed herself down the hall, counting the seconds down in her head. She couldn't be caught. She had to keep moving. Nakamori was getting closer. His footsteps were getting louder. The closet was so close. She had enough time to make it. Shaking, she grabbed hold of the closet handle and pulled it open, stumbling inside to fall against towels and blankets and bedsheets packed into the shelves. Barely catching herself on one of the shelves, she pulled the door shut behind her, plunging the closet into blackness. 

ROSE's heart raced. Wasn't this a broom closet? How did she get here? She'd been running from Nakamori and her detective, the two chasing her after she'd pilfered the— 

Searching her memory, ROSE came up empty. She didn't know. ROSE didn't know which gem she'd stolen. She couldn't feel the weight of a gem anywhere on her person, nor did her monocle sit on the bridge of her nose nor her hat on the crown of her head. Her cape, its weight like a heavy blanket, was absent from her shoulders. She wasn't in uniform, she didn't have any of her gear. What was she doing, running from Nakamori while injured in civilian clothes?

Her breathing picked up. Maybe she wasn't running from Nakamori at all. Maybe it was Snake. He'd escaped. He was coming for her. He knew who she was, and he was going to kill her.  _ "Poker Face," _ ROSE whispered desperately to herself, schooling the muscles in her face into compliance. Her mind came next. She couldn't face Snake in a panic. That would only get her killed faster.

Wiping sweat from her forehead, ROSE fought to calm her breathing. Panting like an old dog on a hot day would give away her position too easily. She needed to breathe quieter. A breath's worth of experimenting told her she couldn't get enough air through her nose. Adjusting her intake of air, she minimized the sound coming from her mouth. 

The only thing left was the rest of her body. Her legs trembled, her arms shook. Try as she might, she couldn't stop the tremors. She took stock of them instead, taking into account the shaking as she planned her next move.

The footsteps outside the door came to an abrupt halt nearby.  _ Here he comes. _ It must have been the towels and sheets surrounding her, but the voices barely made it to her ears. She couldn't hear them through the door. She reasoned that Snake knew she could outsmart him, so he was probably staying quiet. ROSE's grin flashed across her mouth as ROSE bared her teeth. She could get the jump on him now, and he'd be gone for good. Maybe she was injured, but she wasn't dead yet.

Twisting the door handle, she pushed the door wide and threw herself into the open. Shoving herself off the wall, she charged at Snake. 

Snake turned, his glasses catching the hallway light. His form blurry, ROSE gauged where his vulnerable parts would be based on his general body shape and swung. With a surprised shout, Snake easily caught her arm, but ROSE kept her Poker Face up, meeting him with her vicious smile. 

"You've gotten stronger, you bastard."

Snake said something, his words lost behind the ringing and the blood roaring in her ears. ROSE swung again with her other hand, but Snake's assistant came from behind him and caught that punch. With nothing left to lose, ROSE tugged her hands towards each other, yanking them from her enemy's grips. She'd go down fighting. 

Snapping out a kick towards Snake's groin, she forced him to retreat. His assistant came at her, a vaguely shaped blob of colors. Funny, she would've expected them both to be wearing black. Throwing out the thought, ROSE spun and delivered a kick to the assistant's back. Switching legs, she drove her heel into the same spot, forcing the assistant into the ground. Snake shouted in alarm, calling for his assistant, it seemed. ROSE centered herself, distancing her focus from the growing fire of her side. Kicking off from the ground, she aimed a quick succession of kicks at Snake's stomach, pulling her legs back quickly each time she missed so Snake couldn't grab them and pull her down. Snake kept up, avoiding her as he shouted at her, a clear note of distress in his voice. His voice was off, too. It was higher than she remembered, a smoother quality than before. She ignored it and persisted, keeping up the attack. She couldn't back down.

_ Never be arrogant. _ Snake grabbed her leg. She couldn't keep her balance and fell on her back, clenching her teeth to keep back a shout of pain.  _ Never underestimate them. _ With all her might, she kicked at Snake to make him retreat. He held his ground, crying out something in some desperate attempt.  _ See into their minds. _ He needed his assistant, the one she'd knocked into the ground. She wouldn't give them the chance to team up on her.  _ Use every trick you know. _ Planting her hands, she pushed off the ground and sprung to her feet. Sweeping Snake's legs, ROSE knocked him over and landed on him, finding his neck and pressing her arm against it. He resisted, but she held firm. 

_ And at all times...remember your poker face. _

Snake pressed his— hand? elbow?— into her side. She didn't scream.  _ Poker Face, Poker Face _ . ROSE pressed harder on his neck to cut off his airflow, knock him out. She had to win. She had to win. Snake pressed harder and harder into her side, sending black crawling in from the edges of her vision. She couldn't give up. He was going to kill her. She couldn't die. Not today.  _ Not today. _

Snake drew his hand back for a second of reprieve, and ROSE thought for that brief moment that she'd won. Then, Snake's fist collided with the bullet wound in her side. ROSE cried out in pain and promptly blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3  
> If you like the story so far please let me know :)  
> I love constructive criticism, so please please tell me where the story might be taking short in some way
> 
> See you soon with the next chapter!  
> <3 Kencha


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would she be without her ~~assistants~~ friends, after all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shuukichi calls Miwako 'Miwa' and Miwako calls Shuukichi 'Shuu'  
> there's a lame inside joke there  
> maybe i'll explain it one day
> 
> thanks once again go to the lovely sushi and fabulous chibipenguin for betaing <3

The pressure on his throat vanished as he punched Miwa in the side, sending Shuukichi into a coughing fit as he drew a breath of precious air. Miwa collapsed on top of him, her body unnaturally hot with a fever, sweat coating her skin. He didn't hold it against her for attacking him and Yumi. She was probably delusional from the blood loss and fever, mistaking him and Yumi for old enemies (if that "bastard" comment was anything to go by, not to mention the viciousness of her attack). He felt terrible that he had to go to such lengths to take her out, but Miwa was a person with a very dangerous skill set. Without her moral compass or clear judgement, she was a danger to herself and others. When she needed to be taken out, Shuukichi couldn't have any reservations about taking her down.

When he could breathe again, Shuukichi gingerly slid out from beneath Miwa. He carefully picked her up, leaning her against the wall before he gave her a once-over. "I'm so sorry, Miwa, I'm so sorry," he murmured frantically as he felt for a pulse. He only remembered to breathe when he felt blood pumping through her veins. 

Yumi groaned, rising from her spot on the floor. Crawling over to him, she sat on her heels at his side, her hands brushing over Miwa's shoulders. "She wasn't herself, Chukichi. I— I know Miwako. She couldn't see us for who we were. She wouldn't have attacked us or run away if she did."

Shuukichi frowned, spotting the blood seeping out from the bandage he'd applied yesterday. "She ripped her stitches. We need to stitch her back up right away."

Nodding in agreement, Yumi moved her arms beneath Miwa's. "Get her other side? We can take her back to her bed. I'll go get the stuff." 

Shuukichi shifted to Miwa's other side, carefully placing his hands to avoid Miwa's injury. "Are you okay, Yumi? Miwa didn't hurt you, did she?"

Wincing as she straightened her back, Yumi offered a reassuring smile. "Nothing broken. Miwako trained me well enough to take a hit like that, even from her." She didn't look at Shuukichi, instead staring down at her injured friend. Shuukichi's own smile was fleeting as he followed Yumi's gaze. Miwa and Yumi had been friends long before he started dating Yumi, Miwa pulling the investigative card on him after his and Yumi's first date. A constant presence in Yumi's life, Miwa was the one he asked for advice about presents, anniversaries, and special occasions when he found himself at a loss. She was always friendly, always willing to help, in her words, "the one who made Yumi smile so much." Miwa had grown to become one of his friends, too, and something in his gut just  _ twisted _ as the image of her coming at him full-force played in his head again and again.

"On three," Yumi said. 

Shuukichi nodded, shifting his feet for better footing. "One."

Turning her head from Miwa, Yumi met his eyes. "Two."

They nodded together and braced themselves. "Three," they said together, grunting as they lifted their friend. Miwa's head lolled forwards as they rose steadily, each careful not to put more of the weight onto the other. Once both had stood up fully, Shuukichi let Yumi take the lead in guiding them back to Miwa's bedroom. Careful not to injure her further, he watched the door handle to make sure Miwa's back cleared the gap. He and Yumi shuffled into the bedroom, maneuvering Miwa back onto the bed. He had a better grip on Miwa and laid her down, nodding to Yumi. "I got her."

"Okay. I'll be right back." Trusting Miwa to him, Yumi ran off to get the medical supplies they needed to patch Miwa up. 

Following his first aid training, Shuukichi took a blanket and rolled it up, lifting Miwa’s legs to put the blanket under them. Her feet elevated above her chest, he looked at his watch. How long had it been since he knocked her out? It felt like an hour, but it was probably more like thirty seconds. Despite what popular culture might say, Shuukichi knew that if someone was unconscious for more than a minute, they needed emergency medical attention. Miwa had probably blacked out from the accumulated pain, so she had to wake up soon. Last time he redid her bandages, her blood pressure had been a little lower than he liked, but it wasn’t anything life-threatening. By some miracle, she hadn’t needed a transfusion that first night when Shuukichi treated her when Yumi brought her home with no other information than “Miwako’s been hurt.” 

Shuukichi put his hand on Miwa’s. He was well acquainted with guns thanks to his older brother and knew immediately that Miwa’s wound was caused by a bullet, probably fired at close range from behind her. What had she been doing to get shot, and why hadn’t Miwa’s entourage of police officers found the one responsible for this injury? She literally ran one of the only police force-affiliated gyms in the city and trained Tokyo’s finest, able to give the majority of the police force a run for their money in hand-to-hand combat. Someone must have gotten the drop on her to get off a shot like this. He’d come to her gym periodically for a few classes, and he’d seen her easily demonstrate how to disarm a perp with a gun. Her speed and agility were nothing to sneeze at either, keeping her alive in tournaments when her sheer strength alone was not enough. 

It was a fact of life. Like the sky was blue and good animes ran for far too long, Satou Miwako did not just  _ get shot.  _

Apparently, that was what happened, though. Which lead Shuukichi to the second question: why didn’t any of the police seem to know about it? Her absence from her gym was bound to raise some eyebrows, seeing as she rarely missed a day and never without notice. Yumi had dropped in on a class yesterday to see how things were running, and everything seemed normal, if tense. None of the people at the gym knew anything about Miwa getting injured. In fact, it seemed most of them were under the impression Miwa had left for a vacation, and two officers, Megure and Shira-something-or-other, said they’d gotten a call from Miwa herself. According to them, Miwa had said she found a lead on her mom and needed to chase it before it ran dry. The only problem was that Miwa had been unconscious in the guest room for the past forty-eight hours. There was no way Miwa could have called and told anyone anything, especially not with her phone on the charging station in the kitchen. 

Shuukichi could think of a few explanations, but one stood out from the others in terms of probability: someone was trying to hide the fact that Miwa had been injured. It was pretty obvious, especially if he took into account the ‘no hospitals’ thing Yumi mentioned that first night she'd brought Miwa home (he'd watched his fair share of superhero and crime shows). Miwa herself had never been opposed to hospital treatment, often pushing her students and friends who'd been seriously injured to seek medical attention. 

Miwa was hiding something, something she'd gotten shot for. Her enemies were ones who found no mercy behind her fists nor her feet. An incredible martial artist, Satou Miwako was a dangerous person, careful to pull her punches in class and even in tournaments, always acutely aware of her own strength. Anyone who could hold their ground against the full force of her might was a formidable foe indeed. A foe who warranted the use of all her strength, the one she’d mistaken him for? That was a person Shuukichi hoped he never had to meet.

Miwa’s breathing hitched, and with a moan, she turned her head and stretched her limbs. Flinching, a hand flying to her side, she grunted in pain. With a glance at his watch, Shuukichi let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. She'd woken up just seconds before the sixty-second mark. 

"Shuu?" Miwa asked, her voice faint. He realized his hand was still on hers. She turned her hand over to grip his. "Shuu?"

Keeping his voice soft, he spoke. "Hi, Miwa. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been shot," she said, flashing a fleeting half-smile. 

His smile was coupled with a wince, more to reassure her than to reflect inner relief. "Sorry about that. Yumi and I couldn't get through to you, so I ended up fighting dirty to win."

With a frown, Miwa peered at his face. "What are you talking about?" Her eyes went wide with horror as she clapped a hand to her mouth. "That wasn't a dream."

Shuukichi nodded grimly. "It wasn't."

The gears in her mind visibly whirred a mile a minute. "If— if you knocked me out, then—" she gasped, jerking her head to search his face wildly, her voice rising in pitch with worry. "Yumi. Is Yumi okay?"

"She's fine," Shuukichi was quick to assure her. Not that he knew for himself, but the last thing Miwa needed right now was to feel guilty about something she'd done in a trance-like rage. They could deal with that when she was in her right mind. "You've trained her. She's fine." When Miwa refused to relax, he continued, "She just went to go get the stuff we need to redo your stitches. You ripped them in the fight."

Wincing, Miwa released his hand from her iron grip. "I'm sorry. There was… Nakamori, and then Snake, and… I just--” she broke off. “I didn’t realize it was you.”

Shuukichi simply nodded. Just as he and Yumi thought (though he filed away those names for later)."We're fine, Miwa." Gently, he pressed a hand to her forehead. "You're still burning up. We can talk about it when you're feeling better."

Yumi arrived with the suturing-- stitching-- kit and more bandages, and Shuukichi murmured a quiet request of permission to Miwa to open her shirt. He'd done it without asking while she slept, but it felt wrong to not ask while she was conscious. When she nodded, he undid the buttons on the lower half of her shirt, going no higher than just above the bandages to preserve her modesty. 

Setting to work, Shuukichi cut away the bandages with a careful, precise hand and a sharp pair of scissors. Peeling them off her skin, he winced at the ripped stitches and the slow stream of blood oozing from the wound. Yumi handed him a wet cloth, one of her hands clenched in Miwa's as he cleaned the wound. Once the blood was cleaned away, Shuukichi could clearly see the thin tendrils of red that spread out from the wound, greedily reaching out to draw more of her into sickness. 

Yumi, noticing his hesitation, looked over. Color draining from her face, her shoulders slumped, Miwa's hand falling from hers. She pursed her lips, growling in frustration, and swore angrily. 

Miwa didn't move, save for turning her head to Yumi in question. "Yumi?"

Shuukichi answered first. "The wound's infected, Miwa," he said solemnly. 

"That explains the fever," Yumi gritted out. She looked away, snarling at no one. "And when you  _ finally _ woke up." A lump rose in Shuukichi's throat. They really were out of their depth, weren't they, he and Yumi. Neither of them medical professionals, all they knew came from the internet or, in Shuukichi's case, his brother. With limited supplies and knowledge, they thought they were doing their best-- changing her bandages regularly, keeping the wound clean, and keeping her fever from rising-- but in the end, their best wasn't enough.

And wasn't that a stab to the heart.

With a minute nod, Miwa swallowed. "There’s an urgent care center we can go to. It’s safe." Her tone, firm and absolute, gave Shuukichi no room to apologize. She'd already made her decision, and heaven help anyone who thought they could deter her once she'd set her mind on something. 

Yumi cut in, her frustration abated by Miwa's decidedness, "That old man, he said no hospitals." Shuukichi only had a peripheral knowledge of what Yumi was talking about, but Miwa seemed to understand instantly. Leaving the two women to discuss the matter, Shuukichi silently reached over and picked up fresh gauze and ointment to redo the bandages. If they really were going to a hospital, then he'd rather leave the stitching to a professional. 

Miwa frowned, eyebrows furrowing in thought. "It’s been two days. They wouldn’t be looking anymore. Either way, this place is further away from the center of the city." She paused, wincing only a little as Shuukichi applied the ointment to the wound, pressing a gauze pad to the wound a moment later. When he was done, she spoke again, though the vigor in her voice was fading. "Yumi, can I have my phone? I need to call him, just to be sure it’s safe."

Yumi huffed, a short exhale from her nose. "Will you want us around? Or is it too private for us to hear?"

The accusation, the hurt, was clear as day. It was obvious now that Miwa had been keeping a fair share of secrets. All those nights when she'd cancel plans, when she'd say something about her gym, being too exhausted-- how many of those were lies? How many times did Miwa lie through her teeth to go off doing something that ultimately got her shot? 

Yumi was nothing like Shuukichi in that she had no bearing for secrets and double-lives like this. His brother's first calls to warn him about anyone dressed in all black had him infuriated at first-- how could his brother do this, how could he put himself in such danger, why didn't he trust his little brother enough to say anything about it-- but Shuukichi eventually learned two things about his brother's secrecy:

  1. Knowledge could be lethal
  2. It was never about Shuukichi.



It was always about something bigger than him or his brother, some end goal neither of them could see but knew existed. Knowing the secrecy his brother lived by wasn’t personal did wonders for coping with the situation. 

It was only thanks to his brother that he wasn't as mad at Miwa as he might've been. That wasn't to say Shuukichi wasn't mad-- no, he was downright furious with himself. Miwa had been living a lie just like his older brother, and he'd ignored the warning signs. Now, he was cleaning a wound she'd gotten living the other life she led, and Yumi, beautiful, passionate Yumi, was hurt as he'd been all those years ago.

Pain of the body registered differently than that of the heart. Where Miwa barely batted an eye at taking a punch, now the breath left her lungs as she flinched. "Yumi, I never wanted to hurt you. I've been trying to keep you safe."

Yumi bristled, her voice rising in volume, nearing a shout. "Keeping me safe got you shot, and now it's infected, and you know how bad that is." Unable to look at Miwa, Yumi shook her head and shoved herself up from the bed, stepping away. "Nothing is worth this, Miwako. Please," she pleaded. 

Miwa's jaw set, she wouldn't-- couldn't-- respond. Shuukichi, recognizing the look on her face, spoke for her. "Some things are."

Attempting to diffuse the argument with a change of topic, Shuukichi scooted closer to Miwa and said, "I need to get the entry wound." Offering his hand, he pulled her up when she grabbed onto him. 

Yumi, unable to stand by idly, helped Miwa move so her back faced Shuukichi, and she handed him the first aid kit. Helplessly, she looked between Miwa and Shuukichi until Miwa offered, “I can tell you everything on the drive over.” Somehow, Shuukichi doubted that. She’d been awake for something like ten minutes, and her fever and exhaustion hadn’t gone away. She needed to go back to sleep and regain her energy, not keep pushing herself when her body was already failing her. 

Yumi, however, didn’t seem to share Shuukichi’s foresight. “I’ll go get your phone,” she said, accepting the olive branch Miwa extended to her. She disappeared down the hall, her footfalls fading from earshot.

Lifting the back of Miwa's shirt, Shuukichi went to work at the entry wound. Into the thick, heavy silence, he quietly voiced his deduction. "Miwako, tell me the truth." He cut away the bandages and set the scissors aside. "Are you Kaitou ROSE?"

She stiffened, her back ramrod straight. "What makes you think I am?" Neither denial nor confirmation, and Shuukichi was willing to accept that. 

"Reports say ROSE was shot at the last heist, two days ago. The detective who witnessed it said he couldn't see where ROSE was shot, but the man who fired the bullet claimed he hit ROSE in the back, right side." Applying the ointment, Shuukichi's fingers were light on her back, careful not to cause her any more pain. "Exactly where your injury is."

Miwa waited a long time before answering, her shallow breathing the only sign she wasn’t a statue. Shuukichi wondered how she’d respond. He had only come to this conclusion in the last few moments, though he'd had his suspicions since she woke up. Even Miwa's calm, steady exterior was evidence of her identity as ROSE. ROSE was unflappable, able to change tactics on a dime and never so much as blinking at new factors and countermeasures against them. They took everything in stride. "It could be a coincidence."

"It could," Shuukichi agreed. 

Miwa, it seemed, was prepared for such a confrontation. “I thought ROSE was a man.” 

As prepared as she may be, he had amassed both circumstantial and concrete evidence of Miwako's alter ego. "ROSE is a master of disguise and can mimic voices. In our patriarchal society, we assume someone is a man until proven otherwise. Who's to say ROSE isn't a woman under that top hat and monocle, disguising her face and voice?"

Words curled into spears, statements framed as attacks to expose holes in his theories, filled Miwako's arsenal. "I'm a martial artist, not a magician. ROSE is a magician."

"Two heists ago, ROSE disarmed one of her fans who got his hands on a gun. She threw him over her shoulder rather impressively and her form looked a lot like yours." He let her shirt fall down across her back, the bandages redone. "As for her skills that you say you don't have, that’s just a matter of you practicing them in secret. I have no evidence of that, though.”

“Why would I steal? I don’t need the money.”

“ROSE has never kept a gem. The ones returned to Inspector Nakamori have been authentic each time.” Though the action was corrected in an instant, he still caught the slight hunch in her shoulders. This time, he took the offensive, asking quietly, confidently, "How would you explain the fact that you become too busy to spend time with Yumi at about the same time every month?"

"Periods," Miwa answered firmly, quickly, like she'd been expecting the question.

Though a blush spread across his cheeks, Shuukichi responded, "Yumi was worried you'd been avoiding her, and I thought of the same explanation. However, she said it was, er, the wrong time for you." He coughed, trying to regain himself. "I don't think that's the reason."

"You think the reason is because I'm ROSE." The way she hesitated before saying the words  _ I'm ROSE, _ as though it was a truth she wanted to hide, clinched it for Shuukichi. 

If there was any doubt in his mind before, there was none now. "I know you are." Pressing a gauze pad to the wound, he secured it with a bit of medical tape. "Will you tell us why?"

"Us?" She echoed, fear pitching her voice a few notes higher as she looked back over her shoulder at him.

He nodded to the open doorway. "Yumi left your phone in the kitchen. It wouldn't take her this long to come back."

Yumi stepped into the doorway, Miwa’s small black flip phone in hand. Miwa, stiff as a board, stared at the bed. Quietly, she began, “Yumi, I--”

“How long were you going to keep it from me? ROSE has been around for a year. It’s been a year, Miwako.”

Miwa flinched, but her tone was still, steady, and soft. “I said I’d tell you everything. I was going to. I still will.”

Yumi wasn’t having any of it. “A year, Miwako. Do you have any idea how much you’ve stolen? How much police resources you’ve been wasting? There’s a taskforce. A  _ ROSE  _ task force. And not to mention property damages, the money people spend on fixing their security systems, the cleanup that goes on after you’re gone. And the taskforce-- those people that could be stopping other criminals, people who’ve actually killed people, people who are actually stealing for a reason--”

“Yumi!” Shuukichi interrupted, but Miwa had a rebuke ready. 

“I work day in and day out with the men who chase me down. I’ve trained most of them myself. My father was a policeman who taught me what’s right and what’s wrong.” Miwako said, low and cold, ice and venom laced in her words. “I’m not wasting police resources without reason. I  _ have  _ a reason--” 

Bristling at Miwa's cool, distant defense, Yumi cut in with fire and passion, "And what if you get arrested? Whatever reason you have, it won't be enough to walk free. You're throwing your life away.” 

“She’s not--” Shuukichi tried.

Miwako cut him off. “Shuu, no.” Reluctantly, he resigned himself to silence. Miwako did not need him as her defender. Her frame immobile save for her silent, shallow breaths, Miwa retaliated with an impenetrable offense of facts. "I have stolen thirteen point two billion yen in gemstones and artifacts, and I have caused roughly half a billion yen in property damage. I work with the men who want me behind bars, whether they know it or not. You think I’m doing this for  _ fun?” _ A sudden rise in volume, a roar of raw anger and pain before she regained herself, made Shuukichi flinch. “Any one of the people at my gym could arrest me for being ROSE. Dad spent so many nights away from me and Mom with paperwork and dealing with criminals. I know what I’m putting my taskforce through. I know what I’m facing if I get caught."

Yumi burst out, "You’re not listening to me, Miwako. This is dangerous. You're going to get yourself killed, or captured. If you know what you’re doing, then you know you need to stop!" 

An intake of air, choked and pitched with a sob, was the first emotion Shuukichi recognized in Miwa. "They killed my dad, Yumi.” Like a blow to the chest, the words knocked the air from Shuukichi’s lungs, a hollow empathy swelling in his chest. “I don't care what it takes. I'm drawing these people into the open and making them pay for their crimes." 

Yumi faltered, opening her mouth to speak, but no words came. Miwa, her head down, did not notice. Voice uncannily level, she said, “I'm well aware I could get killed, but I steal and lie and  _ keep you in the dark _ to make sure that when I go down, you don't come with me." 

That was all it took. 

Surging forward, he and Yumi trapped Miwa between them in an all but crushing hug. Miwa yelped when they attacked, but they were careful not to hug her too tight and aggravate her injuries. Helpless, squirming in their grasp, she protested weakly. “G-guys, I--” 

“Ah-ah-ah. No,” Yumi said softly, with none of her usual mother-like scoldings.

“We’ve caught you, Kaitou ROSE,” Shuukichi said jokingly, keeping the pity from his tone, knowing she wouldn’t want it. “You’re not getting away from us.”

Reveling in their warm embrace, Miwako sighed to herself and let the tension flow from her shoulders. “I still owe you an explanation,” she murmured to neither of them in particular. 

Yumi sat back on her heels, and Shuukichi pulled away from the hug. “Once we get in the car. Come on, let’s get you to the doctor’s. Tell us on the way?”

Miwa quirked a smile, the familiar expression loosening something in Shuukichi’s chest. She was still Miwa. “I think I already agreed to that.” Her jaws opened in a gaping yawn, leaving her to blink drowsily once it was gone. “I’m really tired,” she muttered. 

“On the ride back, then. We have plenty of time,” Shuukichi pointed out. “Yumi’s off for the rest of the week, and I’m not busy until Saturday.” Another match was this weekend, but he knew Yumi would be able to handle Miwa without him. 

Though Yumi’s telltale slight pout sat on her lips, she nodded in agreement. “Your health comes first,” she told Miwa. “Once you’re better, we’ll talk.” Handing Miwa the little black flip phone, she said, “Chukichi’s gonna go start the car. You make your call, then I’ll be back to get you dressed.” She frowned at Miwa. “Can you sit up on your own?”

With a thoughtful twist of a frown, Miwa shook her head. “Against the wall, probably.” With a few careful movements, Shuukichi and Yumi helped Miwa into a comfortable position against the wall. Shuukichi stepped back first, going to get his keys. He paused at the doorway, looking back at Miwa. “I’ll go start the car.”

Nodding gratefully, Miwa opened her phone. “Thank you, Yumi. Shuu.”

Yumi flashed a bright smile, standing and following him out. “I’ll be back in a little bit, Miwako.”

She waved tiredly before looking down at her phone. Yumi closed the door to the guest room behind her, leaning her back against it with a sigh once it latched shut. 

“When did you know?” she asked quietly, barely above a whisper.

Shuukichi thought about it. “I’ve suspected since you brought her here. She  _ was  _ wearing a blue dress shirt and white slacks, not to mention white shoes. You’ve never seen her in that getup before, have you?”

Yumi shook her head. “I haven’t. It makes so much sense, I just--” She sighed. “ROSE.” She put a hand on the back of her head. “Was she ever going to tell me?” It came out a pained whisper.

“I think she’s wanted to.” Shuukichi took a step towards her, hand coming up to trace her jawline. “Remember what she got you for your birthday?” he asked in a whisper, smiling mischievously.

Yumi’s jaw dropped. “A rose necklace.” Her hand went to her neck, but the necklace she spoke of wasn’t there. It was in her jewelry box, sitting amongst her mother’s engagement ring, her father’s class ring, and a pair of emerald earrings from her grandmother. “But that could be a coincidence.”

Shuukichi shrugged. “It could.” Pressing his lips to hers, he gave her one last kiss before stepping away. “I’ll be out in the car,” he said, heading towards the front to grab his coat. 

“Okay. Can Miwako use your big jacket? I don’t want to fit her into anything too tight.” Yumi stepped backwards, going towards the kitchen. 

“Go ahead. We don’t need her any sicker than she already is.” Pausing, he took in her face, her posture, her figure, committing it all to memory for what must’ve been the thousandth time. “See you in a few,” he said, trying to end the conversation. 

Yumi nodded, humming in assent, before heading to the kitchen. 

After bundling up in a warm jacket, a hat, and gloves, Shuukichi went out into the cold and started the car to warm it up. His phone beeped with a notification, and he took it out from his pocket, fingers shaking with the cold. Miwa had texted him the address of the place. Putting it into his GPS, he read the estimated drive time. “Thirty minutes,” he muttered. Nowhere near enough time to get all the information he wanted from Miwako. “Well, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

(With Miwa’s condition as questionable and concerning as it was, he could only hope.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: the thing about being unconscious? Yeah don't believe popular fiction. If a person is unconscious for more than a minute, call an ambulance right away and get professional medical help. Comas are extremely complicated and aren't like the 'oh no they're just asleep' thing that a lot of stories/ people think they are  
> check out this link for more info, i found it while doing research for Road to Hell revisions and it's pretty interesting  
> https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/gy3d54/intensive-care-stress-nurses-coma-what-its-like
> 
> anyhoo....  
> you ready to figure out what happened to snake and wataru  
> you ready for a takagi chapter
> 
> cuz hecc yeah i am


End file.
